


light blue paint, silver cupcakes, and life the color of sunbursts

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, Insecurity, M/M, Melancholy, Slice of Life, background kaede/miu/tenko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25149034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: and... and his hands are stained light blue from painting for hours, and he’s looking up at the soft sky, now, to avoid focusing on how fucked-up his fingernails look from it, and he’s thinking a lot about this damn paint that means nothing but his boyfriend in next to him, talking about the rest of their life in light, idealistic, less scary details, and he thinks it might be okay,but is he even allowed that?(or, a look into saihara and momota's life as a couple, now sharing a place together and, hopefully, the rest of their lives.)
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	light blue paint, silver cupcakes, and life the color of sunbursts

saihara shuichi is twenty three years old and still does not know how to function in a store.

beside him, his best friend akamatsu is standing there, watching him with an almost concerned eye. they’re getting groceries, but at some point the functional part of saihara’s brain just… shut off, and now he’s just staring at the peaches and plums and for some reason can’t tell the difference between them. 

_ momota wanted peaches, right?  _ he thinks almost distantly.  _ or… no, i could check the shopping list, but i…  _

“saihara-kun?” akamatsu asks kindly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

he shakes his head, as if to remove the thoughts, and he puts three peaches (partly ripe) into a plastic bag. as he does so, he attempts at a slightly-depressing joke that comes out a shade too soft. “i don’t think i know how to be an adult, yet.”

akamatsu sighs, squeezes his shoulder and gently pushes the shopping cart. “momota-kun wants starfruit, doesn’t he?”

and they carry on.

\--

the day saihara moved in with momota also happened to be his twenty-third birthday.

it goes something like this:

he remembers heaving boxes into rooms, trying to write some labels on each with a dark-blue sharpie (because the black ones got lost, somehow, along the way). behind him, his boyfriend is stretching, grinning as his back cracks and he says something about making sure to do some pushups before you exert yourself too much, but saihara thinks it’s a bit too late. he remembers that, laughing at his boyfriend’s enthusiasm, finally unpacking everything into a room that will soon be  _ their  _ room, and they still have the kitchen to sort out but momota wraps his arm around him and pulls him down to the couch, and the two of them cuddle in  _ their  _ house,  _ their  _ rooms,  _ their  _ furniture,

and it’s one of the best days of saihara’s life.

they blow out a candle, later, when they finish. they didn’t get a full-on birthday cake, but they have a mixed assortment of a small vanilla cupcake with silver-grey frosting and some lemon squares from saihara’s aunt and uncle, and they celebrate in a calm, gentle way. just the two of them, in their house, in their house that is  _ perfect _ -

momota taps saihara’s shoulder, then, pointing at the walls. “this place needs some new paint,” he comments with a grin.

and here they are.

\--

“do you know what color paint he wanted?” akamatsu inquires as she excitedly looks at all the color options. she picks up sheets with gradients-- this one has hues of orange-- and runs her fingers along them. it’s nice to see her so passionate, but then again, akamatsu always is. 

saihara smiles but shakes his head, looking down at his phone to click through his conversations with momota. eventually, he determines, “something blue, i think. ah, but i’m not sure what shade he wanted…” maybe something like the night sky? but, hm, he also likes the glacial colors typically shown for neptune… a neutral cerulean seems a bit  _ too  _ powerful, and this isn’t just one accent wall, this is their entire bedroom, really, but… do they need paint for the rest of the house, too? he suggested off-white, but there are a lot of shades… hm. “i guess we should just, hm, look around?”

akamatsu nods in assent, her ponytail bouncing with her. “sure!” within seconds, she shows him another color slide. “here, this says periwinkle! does he like periwinkle?”

“maybe,” he replies idly, more interested in choosing between the various  _ eggshell  _ labelled shades. he eventually settles on one, snaps a picture for momota just in case, and starts looking more at the blues. he rules out dark colors, since it seems like it’ll lessen the atmosphere, and searches for more neutral tones. they really should have invited yonaga to shop with them, in retrospect, because she’s a  _ lot  _ better with interior design. 

he hasn’t seen her in a bit, actually. maybe he should invite her over for coffee.

it takes ten minutes (and a kind employee asking if they needed help) before they narrow it down to three colors. it’s a mix of  _ sleepy blue, dreamy clouds,  _ and  _ sea lavender _ . akamatsu notes that the second one is fitting, really, for a bedroom, but the first one is too, but  _ ah,  _ the lavender is  _ really  _ pretty-- and yeah, they definitely should have brought yonaga with them.

still, it’s fun looking at the colors. even if it’s a bit stressful. it’s paint for his home, after all.

that’s a sweet thought.

\--

they meet via a mutual friend when they’re nineteen. 

nineteen year old saihara: timid, shy, still covered his eyes with his hat. quietly observant of other people, brief flashes of a temper, but typically mild.  _ too  _ mild, sometimes. 

nineteen year old momota: practically sweeps nineteen year old saihara off his feet with a bright grin and boisterous voice. talks about the stars with an incredulous look in his eyes, ultraviolet irises and a hand gesturing to the sky.

harukawa, their friend, scoffed at him, said  _ it’s not nighttime, dumbass _ , but he just grinned more and replied  _ but the stars are still there _ , and he glanced over at saihara when he said it, and saihara felt like the sun was bursting in his heart, over and over, a beat of his heart like the pulsation of an expanding galaxy. harukawa watched them with a slight smile (one she would deny later, deny for a while) and muttered something about going inside and grabbing a drink spiked with liquor. the two of them kept standing there on the balcony of a messily-thrown together house party, and soon saihara is wrapped up in the way momota talks, how he emphasizes each word and pats him on the back,

and saihara hated parties-- still does, really-- but with momota, it was actually a lot of fun.

(harukawa pulled him aside later, stared at him blankly and said  _ you’re head over heels for him  _ and he blushed, adjusted his hat, and he nodded silently,

and here they are. here they are.)

\--

“i think sleepy blue is the best,” he concludes after he and akamatsu go through the pros and cons of each and every selection. “it has, ah, a certain vibe to it,” he attempts to explain with unhelpful hand gestures. akamatsu just bobs her head excitedly, and he smiles a bit. “thanks for helping me.”

“of course!” she says warmly. “i like shopping with you. you’re, hm, detail-oriented, and you also make good company!”

“ah, well,” he flushes, just a bit. he always does with compliments. “that’s good to hear.”

“is there anything else you two need?” akamatsu asks, bringing them back to the topic at hand. “we have all the food stuff, the toaster, the paint… that’s everything you wrote down, right?”

he checks the shopping list, just in case, before nodding. “yeah, that’s everything. we can check out, now. unless you needed something?”

akamatsu smiles a bit sheepishly, “tenko wanted some granola bars, actually. miu’s been busy with work stuff, y’know, so we haven’t gotten around to buying some yet. so, do you think we can swing back by that aisle again?” 

saihara smiles. “yeah, of course.” akamatsu starts pushing the cart again, and he pauses before saying, “i haven’t talked to chabashira-san in a while. in retrospect, same with iruma-san. how are they doing?” 

her eyes light up and she starts rambling enthusiastically, saihara listening with soft hums as she talks about her girlfriends, and they grab some granola before they go to the checkout lane, still chatting. all the while, he thinks idly to himself,  _ maybe being an adult isn’t all that complicated. _

\--

their first date wasn’t too long after their first meeting.

they found each other in a library-- saihara was scanning the mystery aisle while momota was somewhere with the encyclopedias-- and momota confidently asked him, then, if the two of them could walk to a nearby cafe, after, and grab a coffee. saihara agreed immediately, tripping on his words in a broad display of gay panic, and momota wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked. saihara nearly died, then, but they made it to the coffeeshop without any casualties.

in the back of his mind, saihara worried that conversation wouldn’t come easily, that he would be flustered and taken off guard and wouldn’t know how to talk. in actuality, despite the small bits of awkwardness, momota was surprisingly easy to talk to. he was more of a talker-- which worked for saihara, since he had always been an attentive listener-- but whenever saihara spoke softly, he gave his full attention to him. 

even though he accidentally interrupted sometimes, even though he takes his coffee way too sweet, even though his voice is loud enough to ring in the room-- well, saihara really, really liked him. and none of those were really negatives, anyway. just notes to keep in the back of his mind, because saihara noted a  _ lot  _ of things about him.

in the end, he got his number and a dizzying kiss on the cheek, and he would later insist that he  _ definitely  _ didn’t scream at akamatsu through his phone about it, but he  _ definitely  _ did. 

it’s okay, though, because momota did the same to harukawa.

\--

saihara waves bye to akamatsu and fiddles with his keys, grocery bags slung around his arms and a couple paint cans loaded in the back of his car. just before he finally manages to get the door open, momota gets it for him, smiling brightly and wrapping his arms around him. “shuichi!”

“hey, kaito,” he greets with a slight pant, the bags starting to get slightly heavy. momota notices and takes them from him, kissing his forehead, and saihara sheepishly says, “thanks.”

“no problem!” momota calls out, storing the groceries in the kitchen. “anything else?”

saihara nods. “yeah, um, there’s some paint in the car…”

momota perks up, leaving the groceries still scattered across the countertop, waiting to be placed, as he makes his way to the front door. “i’ll help you carry ‘em!” he offers eagerly, squeezing saihara’s shoulder and walking towards the trunk of his car. saihara flushes a bit and follows.

they eventually get all the items in the house, placed in the right locations, and they eat a quick lunch of ramen and vegetables while making small chatter. momota talks enthusiastically, with a lot of hand gestures and emphasis, about his upcoming training with JAXA, approaching rapidly and yet almost tantalizingly slow. it’s kind of sad, honestly, for saihara to think about being  _ without  _ momota, eventually, and having his boyfriend go to space without him.

but, it’ll be awhile before he goes off to actual space, at least. for now, they have a domestic life, a loving relationship, and a lot of walls to paint.

saihara gets started on the painting immediately after lunch, actually.

\--

the day they start officially dating happens when the two of them are training.

it’s sundown, fireflies curiously landing on shoulders while cicadas chirp in the background, and saihara is doing pushups while momota encourages him. it burns his muscles a little-- momota goes pretty hard on the exercises-- but after thorough stretching and a month of training beforehand, it feels a lot better. almost relieving, honestly.

afterwards, saihara is laying on his back, staring at the sky that’s unfortunately covered in clouds. momota is walking around behind him, dry grass crunching underneath his feet, and saihara is drawn back to reality when he hears momota ask, “hey, saihara, wanna date?”

it’s casual, casual enough that saihara  _ almost  _ thinks he misheard him. but there’s also a subtle nervousness, slight waver, and when he turns to see momota’s face he realizes that the other is not as confident as he usually is. he scratches the back of his neck and opens his mouth, probably to say something else, but saihara cuts him off with an almost breathless, “yes.”

momota stares at him for a few seconds before joining him on the grass, cupping his face and waiting for a quick sign of consent before he kisses him. saihara notices that momota’s lips are chapped, and the two of them are a little bit sweaty from exercising, and it goes without saying that saihara has  _ no  _ idea what he’s doing and momota is really overzealous about the whole thing… but it’s the most perfect kiss he’s ever had, and he’ll stand by that for the rest of his life.

\--

paint, as a concept, is interesting.

it’s one of those weird things that saihara  _ thinks  _ should be metaphorical,  _ feels  _ like it’s metaphorical… but it’s really  _ not _ . it’s just… paint, smeared on his wall in even coats, filling the house with a less-than-preferable scent that he tries to drown out with a cinnamon candle. it’s colored the shade  _ sleepy blue _ , because momota is working with the eggshell color right now, and there’s nothing really metaphorical about it.

it’s just… he gets kinda overstimulated. partly because of the aforementioned strong scent, but also this kind of… scary feeling that he has a  _ place _ , now, and he hadn’t  _ before.  _ and it gets kind of overwhelming, and he isn’t sure why, because things are supposed to be really good right now but he feels kind of weird?

it’s odd, being accepted, being loved so openly and shamelessly, and he’s always been at home with his uncle and aunt but he always knew, underlying, that he was there because his parents  _ weren’t _ . and that kind of started these issues, these insecurities, this fear that someday, momota is just gonna leave him again, because a lot of people do and his friends probably will as well and- it’s easy to get caught up in that.

but now he has a  _ house _ , and he thinks that should make it easier but still he’s scared. what if he wakes up and momota isn’t there? what if he’s alone again? what if momota decides he’s not worth confiding in, not worth his time? he trusts momota, of course he does, but it’s so  _ difficult.  _ it’s so wonderful, but it’s so  _ difficult. _

eventually, momota comes in, wraps his arms around his waist and nudges him towards the balcony, and he follows with footsteps a little too light, a little too scared, because he’s not sure how to tell him  _ i’m worried, i’m scared, i’m fearing.  _

and... and his hands are stained light blue from painting for hours, and he’s looking up at the soft sky, now, to avoid focusing on how fucked-up his fingernails look from it, and he’s thinking a lot about this damn paint that means nothing but his boyfriend in next to him, talking about the rest of their life in light, idealistic, less  _ scary  _ details, and he thinks it might be okay,

but is he even allowed that?

and it’s so  _ strange _ , that feeling of being at someone’s side forever, his life hopefully always being in parallel steps to momota’s, but it’s also so  _ okay  _ to him, and it’s a flurry of confusing emotions but he’s held tightly in his boyfriend’s arms, and it’s okay. it’s  _ scary _ , but it’s  _ okay _ , and he tells him about the paint and he listens and talks to him about it,

and they fall asleep on that same balcony,  _ their  _ balcony, intertwined.

(the sky and all it holds sings to them:  _ here we are, here we are. _ )

**Author's Note:**

> i know it's definitely kaemaki week and i was gonna write something for today but then it just... didn't happen. i'll get days four n five, though!! until then, here's some saimota!! ^-^
> 
> wrote this for a friend of mine's birthday!! if she sees this (which she definitely will), i love you lots!! i would say something like "thank you for being the kaito to my shuichi" but that's extremely homosexual of me. in any case, i'm still correct in that. ANYWAY love you
> 
> this was... gonna be a lot longer, but i wasn't sure what else to add. and i'm not really satisfied with the last scene, personally. i hope people still like it, though! i've always wanted to write more slice-of-life sorts of things, so this was a lot of fun to write!
> 
> anyway, have a nice day, lovelies! until next time :D


End file.
